


Last Year's Predictions Didn't Come Out Quite As Expected

by stilinskisparkles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Derek is a possessive precious werewolf, Erica is a bamf, F/M, M/M, Pack Feels, Prom, everyone thinks Stiles is hot but Stiles, so cheesy this could probably be grilled on bread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskisparkles/pseuds/stilinskisparkles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year ago if someone had told Stiles he'd be going to prom with Erica Reyes and that Derek Hale would be lounging on his bed watching him dither over outfits, gaze ranging from amusement to lust filled every other minute Stiles would have punched them in the face. Or maybe tossed holy water on them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Year's Predictions Didn't Come Out Quite As Expected

**Author's Note:**

> for Ariel, who is a patient soul ♥

A year ago if someone had told Stiles he'd be going to _prom_ with Erica Reyes and that Derek Hale would be lounging on his bed watching him dither over outfits, gaze ranging from amusement to lust filled every other minute Stiles would have punched them in the face. Or maybe tossed holy water on them. 

He's still a little hazy on how they got here if he's honest. There are days when he wants to throw his arms up and yell no stop, what. _Werewolves_? Really? Derek Hale has _feelings_? Somebody pinch him.

But he’s here and _they’re_ here and it came with gruff proclamations over tattered bloody shirts and soft quiet moments in the inky black of night. It came with struggles over power and battles fought; won and lost together. Victories stolen and quick as a flash smiles earned with lame, terrible jokes and reluctant sweetness that grew into something tangible and real and honest.

Stiles has never been so honest in his life as he is with Derek. It doesn’t matter that the dude’s practically a walking lie detector, he finds himself _wanting_ to tell the truth. To let himself give over to breathless confessions and in return feel them murmured back against his skin.

Then there's the fact that  _Jackson_  was the one who tossed a ticket at him in the first place and told him to wear something that wouldn't embarrass the shit out of them all. Which, he'd added, meant that all of his usual attire was out of the question.

Still marginally conflicted over whether or not to be offended or touched that _Jackson_ of all people bought him a ticket Stiles had managed to protest that his clothes were _awesome_.

"No, your clothes scream _hi I like to listen to music that makes sense to fourteen year old girls_ and I have no awareness of color co-ordination."

"Pfft, _Derek_ likes my clothes."

"Derek likes you out of your clothes," Danny had sniggered, half listening and half furiously texting Isaac that  _no, he could not wear a leather jacket to prom_.

"Hey!" Scott winced, "can we not?"

"Dude you realise eventually you'll have to come around to the fact they're fucking."

Scott huffed, crossing his arms and glowering, "I don't need to be reminded of it every five seconds."

Magnanimously Stiles tended to ignore his best friend's strops whenever he and Derek were implied to be doing anything more than solemnly walking side by side not touching or looking at one another  _at all._ This was mostly because when Stiles had first told him he and Derek were uh, _bumping uglies_ Scott had winced, swallowed thickly a few times and then said very seriously, “if he hurts you I will follow him around all day asking every question that ever comes into my head including why the sky is blue, why I can heal really fast but I still get a twitch in my left eye and then I’ll get Allison to shoot him in the head.”

Stiles had been surprised and somewhat proud of the creativity.

He was quite happily munching on an apple and ignoring Scott and Danny’s bickering when Lydia's eyes gleamed in a somewhat terrifying manner. "We should go shopping after school."

“Uh I don’t think that’s a good idea. The last time we went shopping it didn’t really work for me,” he said drily.

“Don’t be silly Stiles; that excursion wasn’t about _you_.”

“I feel like this one won’t be either. You’re looking at me like you’re already sizing me up and picturing me naked.”

Lydia let out a put upon sigh. “You would have given anything for me to look at you that way once upon a time.”

“Times change Lyds,” he grinned wickedly at her and took another bite of his apple. “Besides you don’t need to worry-- I’ll just borrow something from my dad. He’s got some wicked suits from back in the day.”

He could feel the judgemental eyes of the whole table before he even looked up.

“But I don’t want to go shopping with you!” He whined. “You’ll make me try on _everything_.”

“Nonsense, there are some styles that just won’t suit you at all.”

Stiles widened his eyes pleadingly at Allison and she smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you something nice.”

"Not nice," Lydia dismissed, "something  _sexy_."

"But I don't really don--"

“If you’re taking me to prom you’re going to need to look hot Stilinski,” Erica proclaimed as she sat down beside him.

“And who says I’m taking you to prom?”

Erica shrugged easily. “It’s been decided. Besides, Boyd hasn’t asked me so I’m punishing him.”

She stole his apple easily and bit into it with venomous rage. Stiles suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for both Boyd and fruit everywhere.

“Aren’t you going to send him mixed messages going with me?”

The whole table sniggered.

“What?”

“You might as well have property of Derek written across your forehead,” Lydia explained.

“Again _what_? I am no man’s property!”

“But to Boyd and anyone else who would even remotely care-”

“So not me,” Jackson managed to cut in.

“-They know you’re with Derek,” Lydia finished speaking over her boyfriend’s childish comment.

“But how do they know? Do I give off a-- oh god I smell like him don’t I?”

“All the time,” Scott cut in looking pained again.

Stiles paused for a second and then made _a what can you do_ face. “I bet Allison smells like you too.”

“Yeah but that’s nice,” Scott said with a pleased, dreamy expression on his face.

Stiles snatched his apple back of Erica and waved it at Scott. “See? I bet it’s nice for _Derek_ too. And we’re not discussing this any further, my sex life is _mine_. And Erica we can totally go to prom together if you promise not to rub it in Derek’s face.”

“That’s what she said,” Danny grinned like an awful ninja with terrible puns before returning his attention to Isaac and their argument about roses versus carnations for corsages.

“I’m wearing black so just, don’t wear white and you’ll be great.” Erica said casually and if Stiles hadn’t been looking at her he would have missed the undercurrent of relief in her tone and fond affection flicking across her face.

It was a nice feeling knowing just how far they’d come. Not just his friendship with Erica but that the whole pack were here and _safe_. That they were sitting discussing prom like totally normal teenagers would do. He kind of desperately wished Derek would somehow be able to attend but as _that_ was a recipe for disaster at least he could go with someone he loved.

He shot her a small, private smile and she smirked back, kicking at his feet under the table. “Stop it. I can practically smell your heart bursting open with love.”

“Ew thank you for that mental image.”

“Welcome.”

“I still think going together is going to send mixed signals for Boyd.”

Erica shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

“No one should ever wear a white suit,” Lydia shuddered suddenly.

“Matt Bomer could,” Allison pointed out as she attacked her salad with a plastic fork. Seriously did all girls eat like they wanted to murder their food or was it just his own special nutjob group of girls?

Man he loved them all so much.

Erica flicked a grape at him and he scowled. “I’m not even thinking sappy thoughts!”

“Liar.”

“Stop that!”

“I can’t help it if you’re a terrible liar. Hasn’t living with a human lie detector for nearly a year taught you anything?”

“I don’t lie to Derek in the first place!”

“Aw.”

“Shut _up_! And we don’t live together either.”

“You kind of do Stiles.” Danny dropped back into the conversation, “and Ryan Gosling could totally pull off a white suit too.” Before he leaned back once again to text Isaac asking if he could possible get his hands on a fedora. Isaac would look ridiculously hot in a fedora.

“Yes!” Allison waved her fork at Danny in approval, “and Joseph Gordon Levitt?”

“Totally,” Erica sighed happily.

The girls all seemed to zone out for a second and Jackson snorted, collecting up his books. “I’m out.”

“About time.”

“Shut up McCall, no one likes it when you’re funny on purpose; it’s weird. Good luck Stilinski, you’re gonna need it.”

“Oh you think you won’t be coming too?” Lydia whirled on her boyfriend and raised her eyebrows, “did you miss the memo about suit shopping?”

“Babe, I have suits.”

“Not for _prom_ Jackson.”

“But… but I just bought a new Paul Smith!”

“No. You’re _all_ coming,” she zeroed in on Scott who was trying to hide behind Allison’s hair. “All of you.”

Stiles had at least taken comfort in the fact he wasn’t the only one suffering through Mean Girls syndrome 101.

*

He’d also never thought he’d be slightly disgruntled and impatient the first time Lydia Martin tried to strip him in a changing room. Nervous? Sure. Sweating? _Totally_. A little nausea in there too probably. But definitely not wishing she were someone else. And that _he_ were someplace else.

Lord knows, times have changed.

“I’m not sure Derek would be comfortable about this,” he snapped crossly as she yanked the latest offensive shirt off his arm.

Lydia kinked an eyebrow at the slowly fading bruise spread across his collarbone. “Don’t worry I think he’s made it clear you’re off the market.”

Stiles slapped a hand over the offending mark and scowled at her. “Stop eyeing up the goods Lyds and quit _manhandling_ me. I can try on a shirt for god’s sake!”

“You were taking too long! Come on Stiles you’re the only one who hasn’t picked anything yet. Jackson’s even got his _belt_ chosen and you know how seriously he takes his accessories.”

“You’re the one who’s vetoed everything I’ve tried on!”

The curtain was suddenly yanked back, Stiles made a fruitless effort at covering his chest and then for some reason, Lydia’s.

Erica snorted before grabbing his hand. “I’ve found something.”

“Wait Erica I’m not--” His protests fell on deaf ears as she pulled him through the racks of clothes, half naked.

“I do not get enough credit for putting up with you guys I really don’t,” he muttered through clenched teeth as a sales assistant gasped and watched them go past scandalised.

“Will you relax? No one cares about your somewhat muscled chest-- they’ve seen better.”

“Wow, way to talk up the guy taking you to prom there. Tell me do you want that corsage in rags or just doused in silver?”

The blonde rolled her eyes at him affectionately and then nodded at a nearby rail. “What do you think?”

Stiles hesitated as he looked at the suit she’d dragged him to. On one hand, it was a ridiculously cool suit; on the other however he couldn’t possibly imagine how he’d pull it off.

“It’s kind of… red?”

Erica beamed, her own red lipstick contrasting against her very white teeth. It would be a little more frightening if he hadn’t held her hand whilst she sobbed over  a week ago.

“It’s different, different is _sexy_.”

“No, different is what will make people stare, a lot.”

“Exactly,” she smirked.

Stiles had hoped somehow the suit would look as ridiculous as he expected it to. But when he stepped out of the changing rooms, hands deep in the pockets, his friends had yelled their approval.

“Woah Stilinski you look _nice_.”

“That works, it definitely works.”

“But-”

Allison and Lydia fluttered around him tugging at the material. “The blue shirt is good but do you think black instead?”

“No I like the blue, it makes the whole outfit pop.”

“It already _pops_ ,” Stiles protested, “it’s bright red!”

“Maybe a tie?”

“I like it better without.”

“Hey ladies _ladies_ ,” he snapped his fingers in front of them. “I’m right here you know and hey- _Allison_!”

“What?! The shirt needed tucking in at the back.” She stepped away from him with big innocent eyes before they turned mischievous. “Besides I didn’t touch, much.”

Scott growled and tugged Allison onto his lap, glowering at Stiles from the sofa. “Dude I didn’t do anything! And I’m not buying this suit, I look like a tomato.”

“Fine,” Lydia huffed, “I’ll buy it for you.”

“I won’t wear it.”

“Yes you _will_ ,” she announced with a steely glare. “I’m not spending thousands of dollars on a suit as beautiful as this if you’re not going to wear it.

“I didn’t ask you to!”

The women in his life are _insane_.

“We need to get you a haircut too.”

“No. No no no. It took me long enough to grow out we are leaving my poor hair out of this.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby- Scott’s having one too.”

Stiles exchanged a pitiful look with his best friend and Lydia let out an exasperated huff. “It’s like you don’t appreciate the things I do for you at all!”

*

"This is ridiculous," Stiles groaned, tugging on the jacket and narrowing his eyes at himself. "I can’t wear any of these.”

“Then don’t,” Derek replied simply. He tossed whatever magazine he was pretending to read (ha Stiles totally knows he was pretending because it was upside down). Derek was totally watching him get dressed because Derek appreciates his manly assets and _fuck you very much Reyes_ they _are_ manly.  “Wear what you’ve got on now.”

Stiles shoots a significant look down to the lacrosse shorts he’s wearing, a ratty Henley of Derek’s and his old formal jacket. “Somehow I think both Finstock and Lydia would have a problem with that. I don’t think they’d let me in the door.”

Derek hums, eyes on where his Henley is skimming Stiles’ hipbone as Stiles raises his arm to make his point.

“I’m up here Derek.”

His boyfriend -and man did that take a while to sink in, he had to say it into the mirror a few times to work out the awkward snort of laughter that accompanied it before Derek had thrown a pillow at the door yelling at him to shut up- ignores him in favour of ducking his head down slightly to nuzzle at his neck.

“Stay here instead,” he murmurs against his jaw, scratching his stubble slowly across Stiles’ own.

Stiles wants to. Lord does he ever want to stay in his bedroom and explore where this is going.

“I don’t know if Erica will let me do that.”

“I’ll talk to her-- I am her alpha you know.”

“Yes oh hail the mighty _Alpha_ ,” Stiles teases and then lets out a strangled noise when Derek bites at his collarbone. “Derek--”

“Mmm?”

“I can’t let her down. She won’t admit it but I know she’s hurting Boyd didn’t ask. I mean I don’t know why he didn’t ask-- oh yeah right there oh god oh. But maybe he just assumed they’d go together or--”

Derek pauses from kissing at his neck to pull his shirt over his head. “Stop talking about my betas when I’m kissing you,” he growls.

“Uh, I really can’t right now because- Derek- hey! are you listening? Stop that! I can’t go to prom with a giant hickey!”

Derek chooses to ignore him, sliding his hands around his back, blunt nails gently raking up his spine and making him shiver. His tongue is firm and insistent as he finds Stiles’ mouth and kisses him soundly. They fall against the door of his closet, battling for dominance of the kiss. It’s not a serious fight though. It’s one Stiles is happy to give up control of this time, to let Derek take the lead and nudge his legs apart so they’re flush up against one another.

Before they were together Stiles used to wonder in an _oh so casual I totally don’t want it to really happen kind of way_ what Derek would be like to kiss. He’d always thought there would be teeth, angry words and furious hot hands tugging him this way and that. That it would be aggressive and hot as hell but never careful or sweet. There have been moments like that, generally coinciding with one or both of them having a brush with death.

_Stupid bastard_ ’s and _scared me half to death_ ’s half growled out with desperate grinding as their heartbeats thrummed together. Reassuring them both they’re still there, still alive and solid.

But mostly Derek doesn’t kiss like he wants to break Stiles apart. He kisses with his whole being, entirely focused and sensual in a way that makes Stiles breathless in moments. His hands move all over Stiles like he doesn’t know where to touch first, like Stiles is something desirable and wanted. He’s still not totally over the whole idea that Derek will always want him back just as much as Stiles wants Derek. That he can make Derek shudder against him or break him apart completely.

It’s heady and indulgent and Stiles feels almost debauched in seconds every time. He never minds giving up control to Derek in moments like this.

He’s about to say fuck it and let Derek divest him of the rest of his mismatched clothes when a horn blares outside.

A car door slams and he can hear heels on the side walk.

“I can smell the pheromones from out here quit distracting him Derek!”

“Fuck I _told_ you! She’s going to kill me.”

Derek snorts, “I can’t believe you’re afraid of her.”

“Oh please like you’re not?”

“I’m the _Alpha_ Stiles, I’m not-”

Erica bursts into Stiles’ bedroom and they both flinch before Stiles tries to hide just a little behind Derek. Derek leans into him because Derek is a total liar and is also afraid of Erica and what she can do with a pair of tweezers. He actually learnt that the hard way once when she and Allison tried to ‘clean up’ his eyebrows one afternoon when he was asleep. Stiles had laughed for _days_ and Derek had worn a beanie hat low over his face for two weeks looking grumpy and miserable.

Mmm Derek in a beanie hat. Derek’s eyebrows. Derek--

“You’re not even _dressed_?!” Stiles jumps as Erica advances on them. “Derek!”

“Woah slow your roll I’m kind of dressed.”

“You look, and you _smell_ like you’re about ten seconds from being _undressed_ Stiles.”

Derek, special possessive weirdo that he is actually preens at that.

“I was getting dressed and then we just—got distracted! I promise I’ll take ten minutes tops.”

Both Erica and Derek snort. Stiles hates them both.

“You’re both hilarious.” He takes a second to look up Erica up and down. “Damn Reyes you look hot.”

She smirks and flips her hair over one shoulder. “I know. But I’m not going to get any action out of this if you don’t move your ass.”

Derek growls at her. “Erica.”

“Don’t start with me now Derek,” Erica dismisses him with one long pointy finger. “I knew I should have come over after school and made sure you didn’t stay long. I can’t leave the two of you alone for five minutes!  Now _out_.”

“What? _No_.” Derek draws himself up to his full height and tries to glower at his young beta. “You’re not allowed to tell me what to do Erica.”

Erica rolls her eyes and waves a hand at Stiles. “You wanna see him in a tux?”

Derek hesitates.

Stiles gets cross of being invisible to the people standing in _his_ bedroom and drawls, “oh sure, let’s not ask _me_ what I think about all this.”

“Shut up Stiles.”

“You are the _worst_ prom date ever Erica, just so you know. You’re not letting me get laid beforehand, you’re making me wear the world’s stupidest suit and you’ll probably find some way to prevent me from getting laid afterwards too!”

Erica’s face crumples in and Stiles feels like he’s just trodden on her puppy.

“Ah shit Erica I didn’t mean--”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” she hisses crossly. “All I’m trying to do is make sure we get to this damn thing on time and try to pretend like we’re having a good time when neither of us really wants to be there. We’d both rather be with other people and you’ll probably spend the whole night bitching about it anyway and it’ll be the opposite of what I imagined in sixth grade!”

Stiles stares at her wide eyed. “I didn’t realise--”

“Nobody does! Nobody thinks I care about these things because I put on such a front but all I wanted was to go to my prom with a nice boy and even if he’s not the one I love and he’d rather be at home screwing his _stupid_ werewolf boyfriend I still want go.” She lets out a sob and practically throws herself in his arms.

He trips over a shoe and Derek catches them both looking vaguely horrified and like he wants to jump out of the window. Stiles shoots him a warning glare, mouths _don’t you even think about it_ and pats Erica’s hair.

“It’s ok-- we can still go. And you know we’ll have a good time, we can totally burn up the dance floor. I’ll-- I’ll even wear that stupid suit you guys bought.”

Erica snuffles into his shoulder. “Promise?”

“Yeah ‘course. I swear on my Jeep ok?”

“Great,” Erica snaps her head back up and smiles sunnily at him. “Then be downstairs in five minutes or I’ll send Lydia in and believe me she won’t be as nice. Oh and don’t try to wiggle your way out of it this time because I know all your Jeep’s weaknesses.”

“You—what-- I don’t-- you _liar_ ,” he cries pointing at her incredulously. Erica lifts a brow in amusement and then sashays from the room. He turns to Derek, “you couldn’t _tell_?! All your damn werewolf powers are useless.”

Derek glares at him. “Sometimes it’s difficult to know with her.”

“ _Out_ ,” Stiles says crossly. “You are a total traitor and I am withholding sex until further notice.”

“Stiles--” Derek is practically whining as Stiles pushes him towards the window.

“I mean it! I have to get ready now and there’s no way in hell you’re seeing me in my ridiculous suit.”

“But I want--”

“Nope!”

“You’re being ridiculous--”

“I don’t care, bye Derek!” He can hear Derek growling as he pulls the window to with a snap. Serves him right not being able to prevent Hurricane Erica from whipping Stiles up and away to fucking prom in a bright red suit.

He jogs out of the front door ten minutes later and Lydia crows loudly out of the roof window. Danny and Isaac appear next to her and both grin approvingly.

“Nice Stilinski, you finally look like a real boy,” Jackson drawls from where he’s waiting by the door.

“Shut up Jackson I have footage of you crying at the end of Casper.”

“That movie is stupid and dumb and I can’t believe Scott even chose it,” Jackson hisses crossly back.

“That movie is a classic,” Scott yells from somewhere in the depths of the limo.

“Come on Stiles,” Erica calls sweetly, “prom waits for no man.”

“I’m still pissed at you,” he declares as he clambers into the car ungracefully. “But here you go anyway.”

He shoves a red rose corsage at her and Erica’s face _melts_.

 

*

Stiles whistles as he takes in the gymnasium, it actually looks pretty damn awesome. "Bang up job Martin.”

“Thanks,” Lydia replies simply. She’s smiling softly at him and he grins back.

“I knew that suit would look good on you.” She reaches up and kisses him on the cheek. Two years ago Stiles would have dissolved into a puddle of goo on the gym floor. _Clean up on the sticky plastic basketball lines, we have Stilinski matter everywhere_. Now though he kisses her back and throws an arm around her shoulder. He tosses the other one casually over Jackson, who surprisingly doesn’t immediately slink away, and lets out a loud howl.

“Watch out senior prom, the Hale pack’s here!”

“You are such a dork,” Isaac groans from behind. He buries his head in Danny’s shoulder and Danny tries to pretend he’s not flushing an adorable pink from the neck up.

Allison ruffles Stiles’ hair as she and Scott pass to take photographs together. Scott turns and gives a quieter howl in response to Stiles’, beaming at his best friend.

Stiles feels his heart clench as he watches the two of them queue up. They’ve survived so much all together. They’ve all fucking _made_ it.

Erica steps on his toes. “Stop it.”

“Look I am _not_ responsible for my feelings tonight Reyes. I love you and I love Scott and Allison and even Jackson. So feel the love and take it like a man ok?”

She raises a well plucked eyebrow at him and he backtracks. “I mean take it like a woman, a strong hearted fierce warrior princess style woman!”

“Much better.”

They both turn to survey the gym at large now that they’re finally inside the doors. There’s pretty streamers falling gracefully from the ceiling and sparkly lights everywhere. And Stiles--Stiles is acutely aware they’re being looked at. He’s not used to it if he’s honest. People gawping when he trips or throws his lunch in someone’s face? Yes. But staring like they’re _impressed_? That he only gets from a select group of people. The people who are currently glaring back at the suddenly interested student body like they’re his personal bodyguards. He’s pretty sure Isaac and Lydia are both trying to move subtly in front of him.

Stiles snorts and takes Erica’s elbow. “You wanna dance?”

“Right in the middle,” she replies with a flash of teeth.

At least someone’s enjoying the limelight.

He leads her out onto the half empty floor and twirls her round before dipping her low. Her hair whips around like a sharp, dangerous halo and she grins when he pulls her upright. “You been hiding secret talent Stilinski?”

He shrugs. “Learnt years ago.”

She pauses, arms looping around his neck in a casual, easy fashion. “With your mom?”

“Yup.”

Erica looks at him for a long moment and then pats his cheek. “She did a very good job with you.”

Stiles ducks his head, flushing. The ache in his chest is a bittersweet one, still painful but less sharp. The family built around him now won’t ever replace what he’s lost but they’re good to him. They’ve knitted up the scar as best they can. They care for him, even when they’re suffocating about it and they love him regardless of his flaws.

“She woulda liked you I think. Would have been suspicious at first-- worried you’d break my heart or something. But you’re kind of like her you know?”

Erica looks torn between wanting to deflect the moment in a way Stiles knows he would himself, and taking it seriously. She settles for smiling one of her small, genuine and honest _Erica_ smiles before spinning away from him and making him dart to keep up.

They take the official prom photographs together; none of them serious. Stiles makes Erica give him a piggy back in one, she’s pulling on his ears in another and he swings her into a fireman’s lift for the last one. The photographer looks scandalised and makes them take a nice one at the end. Stiles kisses Erica’s cheek at the last moment and her eyes are squeezed tightly shut as she smiles widely.

He gets a couple of them goofing around for his room and one of the nicer photos for his dad.

He can’t help but feel suddenly wistful as he watches a couple take a formal shot together, arms wrapped around each other’s’ waists and looking picture perfect. He wishes he could have pictures like that with Derek. He wishes more than anything that Derek was here too.

Derek would scowl at the photographer and complain the music was too loud. But he’d hold Stiles close despite his complaints, bury his face in Stiles’ neck to avoid the lens flare and he’d even dance if Stiles asked nicely enough. Maybe promised him sex in the woods. Derek is a _total_ exhibitionist sometimes and Stiles is normally against getting serious grass burn. But he would have done it if it meant dancing with Derek at his prom.

Stiles dances with almost everyone else instead. Lydia tries to lead twice and he has to keep a firm hand on her back before passing her off to Jackson groaning at his painfully tender feet. He dances with Allison in an easy sway, talking in her ear about how they should make Scott jealous. He tells her she looks hot and sexy and that they should elope together and have lots of smart archer babies. Scott appears at his shoulder looking un-amused and Allison laughs, throwing her arms around Scott and murmuring that she loves him.

“I love you too buddy!” Stiles wraps his own arms around both of them and they shuffle around to Lionel Richie’s _All Night Long_ until they get tangled up and Scott chooses to save Allison from falling to the ground over Stiles.

“Oh I see how it is,” he gripes as his friend helps him up looking smug. “Sneaky revenge attacks are your thing. I promise I was only like, thirty per cent serious when I suggested Allison and I run off together man.”

Scott scoffs. “Derek would chase you down and drag you home before you reached the freeway.”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed contentedly. “He would.”

“Dude. Stop with that face right now. It’s like three expressions away from your _I’m thinking about_ \-- eww Stiles!”

Stiles drags his thoughts from the angry possessive sex he and Derek would have in a motel somewhere and looks up at him. “What? What?!”

“You’re thinking about s-e-x with Derek and it’s gross!”

“Dude, you’re eighteen now. You can say _sex_. In fact if you can’t say the word you shouldn’t be doing the deed. _I_ can say it, sex sex sex.”

“I hate you.”

“So much sex. For me. With _Derek_. **Forever** ,” he crows loudly, wiggling his fingers in Scott’s face.

Scott groans and ducks into the crowd covering his ears.

“SEX!” Stiles yells after him just as the song is changing and there’s a brief silence  where music should have covered his words.

Because this might be prom and Stiles might have a boyfriend and a stupidly awesome group of friends but someone up there still thinks comedy in its purest form is best served Stilinski style.

Everyone on the dance floor turns to stare at him.

For a second he shuffles around looking awkward before he rolls his eyes. “Oh please, like all of you aren’t thinking about it anyway.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to melt inconspicuously away from the dance floor.

He spots Boyd sitting morosely at one of the empty tables and sidles over to him. “Hey man, we missed you in the limo.”

“Came in the truck,” Boyd says listlessly. He’s shredding the poor helpless streamers and looking for all the world like the saddest werewolf alive.

Stiles sits down beside him and inclines his chin over to where Erica is doing some sort of Krumping with Danny. “So why didn’t you ask her?”

“I didn’t know she wanted to go.”

“Dude, it’s prom,” Stiles says incredulously. “All girls want to go to prom. _I_ wanted to go to prom. Not that I’m a girl,” he adds hastily.

Boyd raises an eyebrow almost smiling but then looks glumly back down at his feet. “Erica’s not like all the other girls though.”

“You should go tell her that. Then tell her you’re sorry and an ass and that you’d rather throw yourself on your sword than lose her again.”

“She’d probably gut me.”

“Well you never know till you try right?” Stiles thumps him on the arm and regrets it as his fist comes away feeling like he’s punched stone. “Come on dude, last night to be teenagers and dance to our heart’s content. Everyone else is happy--you deserve to be too.”

Boyd considers him for a second and then nods, getting to his feet. “Nice suit by the way,” he throws over his shoulder as he marches towards Erica.

“Thanks,” Stiles calls faintly after him. Maybe all werewolves are colour blind and can’t see that this suit is a tomato red and probably makes Stiles look like a walking Crayola crayon: _Sizzling Red_ or _Red Salsa_.

To his surprise Jackson fills the chair Boyd had just vacated and hands him a flask.

“What am I doing with this?”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Drinking from it dumbass. Danny and I already got the punch.”

"You know Finstock thinks Greenberg did that right? He's making the poor guy sit at the teacher's table all night to keep an eye on him."

"Pfft Finstock doesn't give a shit if it was Greenberg or not; he's just got a hard on for the dude."

"That is, a mentally disturbing image."

"Just drink man."

“But--”

“It’s not a dance if you’re not a little buzzed.”

“Yeah but _Whittemore_ _cooties_.”

“Ha _ha_. Don’t front like you don’t want them Stilinski. If you weren’t with Derek I know you’d be dreaming about getting a piece of this ass.”

“Right,” Stiles says drily. “Everyone wants a piece of you.”

“Yup,” Jackson shrugs smugly. “I’m everyone’s type.”

“Well no offence but you’re kind of lacking in several important departments for me.”

“But I’m flawless.”

“Nope, hate to break it you dude but I am never, _ever_ , going to be attracted to you. Ever.”

“But--”

“Not. Ever.” Stiles takes a swig from the flask and then hands it back to him. “But I will dance with you if that’s what you were angling for.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “You’re such a little shit.” But there’s fondness in his tone and he lets Stiles tug him over to where Isaac’s kind of lingering whilst Scott and Danny partake in what has become a dance tradition. Stiles’ friends are so ridiculously touchy feely and weird. He is completely ok with it however much he grouses.

*

At around eleven the heat and the music and the realisation _this is it_ hits him hard. He meanders around to the back of the gym, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets and breathing deeply. The air is warm but it helps clear his head. He leans against the firm concrete wall and peers out across the lacrosse field. He snorts when he spots a pair of red glinting eyes across the field.

“You are such a creeper,” he mutters fondly.

Derek makes his way over the field, casual as you like in a suit that looks like it was _made_ for him.

His isn’t fucking red Stiles thinks crossly.

Derek comes to a stop where the grass meets the dry dirt leading onto the paving stones Stiles is standing on. Stiles takes a moment to appreciate just how well Derek fills out a Hugo Boss suit.

“Derek.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek replies easily, sliding his hands into his pockets and raising an eyebrow. Stiles is reminded of the night they met by the pool. When Derek was so keen to show off he beat up a _basketball_ in front of him and then _Stiles_ was the one who saved their asses.

 “I see you’re wearing a suit.”

“Erica left it at home for me.” Derek smirks at him. “Apparently they’re mandatory for these things. You look--”

Stiles had forgotten about his own damn suit and he groans. “Yeah I know, I look ridiculous.”

“No you don’t you look, _delectable_.”

“Huh. Is that so?”

“Yup.”

“So not too tomatoe-y?”

Derek slowly begins to close the distance between them, head tilted as he considers Stiles. His eyes roam across Stiles’ chest, flicking down to his legs and then up to linger at his neck, pausing at his mouth before meeting his eyes.

“Definitely not.”

He watches breathlessly as Derek pauses in front of him and reaches out; tugging on the lapels of his jacket so there’s hardly space between them. His hands fan out across Stiles’ shoulders skimming down his arms before he slides them inside the jacket, trailing along the shape of the waistcoat beneath.

Stiles swallows thickly. “So I think there’s a little Red Riding Hood joke in here somewh--”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Stiles drops a hand to squeeze against Derek’s obvious bulge. “My what--”

Derek prevents him from finishing by kissing him hard. He’s obviously learnt over their time together it’s the most effective way to stop Stiles from talking. But not from making noise altogether. Stiles moans into the kiss, reaching out blindly and grabbing fistfuls of Derek’s own jacket to hold him steady. He can feel the scratch of the cool wall behind him and it’s in contrast to the pliable heat all languidly poured against his front as Derek licks his way into his mouth.

Stiles lets out a gasp as Derek pulls away from his lips to focus on kissing his jaw, his teeth gently scraping against his neck before he sucks against the taught skin.

“What? No hello dear. How was your night?”

“Hello dear,” Derek responds drily, “how was your night?”

“Mmff—you know—oh—the usual--”

Derek insinuates one of his ever so nice thighs between Stiles’ legs and rolls his hips up against him. Stiles keens loudly and lifts a leg to hook around Derek’s waist, grinding back hard. He can feel Derek everywhere; under the palms of his hands where they’re seeking hot skin beneath the crisp dress shirt Derek’s wearing; the rasp of his stubble scratching deliciously against Stiles’ cheek; the blood in his veins pounding in time with the rolling of their hips.

“No idea how fucking sexy you look right now,” Derek breathes against his collar.

“Are you kidding?” Stiles laughs a little, barely able to spare the breath as Derek picks up the pace of their grind. “Everyone thought I looked like a loon.”

“No one thought that, I can smell how many people touched you tonight.”

Derek practically snarls as if he’s thinking about taking Stiles into the gym and fucking him into the floor in front of everyone and Stiles—Stiles is so not drunk enough to allow for Coach’s face if that happened. He runs a hand around the back of Derek’s neck, stroking idly through his hair before tugging until Derek’s looking at him. “Don’t want anybody else,” he says firmly. “Don’t ever want anyone else touching me.”

Derek’s eyes widen at the implication and he looks briefly awed before leaning forward to kiss him again. This time it’s chaste and honest like he wants Stiles to feel exactly what he does. Reverent of what they have. That he knows Stiles is telling him what Derek’s known all along anyway. That he might as well have _Hale_ carved on his ribcage and that if he did there’d be one that matches right across Derek’s saying _Stilinski_. Derek’s wrapped up in his bones now.

Stiles’ eyes fall on the red silk hander kerchief in Derek’s blazer pocket and he snorts to himself.

Derek raises a quizzical eyebrow and Stiles nods at it. “Just, Erica man.”

“Stiles,” Derek spreads his hands out across Stiles’ hips and lifts him easily. Nudging them together so that can Stiles can feel when his dick brushes against Derek’s own. “I mean this in the _nicest_ way possible but if you insist on talking about my betas in front of me every time we’re about to have sex, there will be consequences.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know man,” Stiles arches his back and exhales sharply at the blessed friction. “I’m thinking consequences might be a good thing.”

He bites at Derek’s lower lip. “Only thought about you all night anyway. Missed you. Missed your hands on me. What we could have been doing all this time alone without your crazy precious betas interrupting us.”

“Fuck _Stiles._ ”

“Yeah yeah oh fuck wait--” He pulls back and Derek huffs against his cheek.

“What?”

“We can’t have sex. No way I’m getting spunk all over these pants man they cost more than my Jeep.”

“So take them off altogether.” Derek immediately begins trying to help proceedings along by tugging at his belt, shoving the pants off his hips like they’re personally offending him. Stiles lets him, powerless against the intoxicating feel of Derek all over him. The strains of laughter and music float above their heads and Stiles can’t help but feel a little thrill at the idea no one in there has a clue what they’re doing out _here_.

That it’s _Prom Night_ and Stiles is in a suit making out with the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with and they want him back.

Only he’s not so much in the suit anymore as he is half out of it. Ridiculously hard and desperate for Derek to touch him again.

Derek lowers him back down to the ground, drops to his knees and Stiles groans. “Oh fuck Derek--”

“Later.” Derek hums before wrapping his lips around Stiles’ cock and taking him all the way into his mouth easily. Stiles bites down on his fist, resisting the urge to rock up into all the filthy hot wetness that is Derek’s perfect mouth.

“Nnnggh oh my _god_.”

Derek wraps a hand around the base of his cock, swirling his tongue around the tip before he sucks him all the way down again. Stiles watches dizzily, fingers clutching frantically in the air before settling in Derek’s hair. He clutches tightly and suppresses a shout when Derek mouths at the vein on the underside of his dick, lapping up pre-come like it’s his fucking day job.

Stiles has heard remarks about his own mouth before. He never let it bother him when it was from jerks at school, plays up to it constantly when it’s spewing from Derek’s mouth when he’s giving head but the things he could say about _Derek’s_ mouth?

God given.

Praiseworthy.

Absolutely fucking tremendous.

“You’re just—oh—can’t fucking believe we’re doing this outside my prom Derek. You’re going to get me killed.”

Derek growls, whether at the idea of Stiles being dead or being caught Stiles doesn’t care because the vibration is incredible.

“Yep, totally de-ad!” His voice is high to his ears and he tries to focus, tries not to repeat their first time by coming impressively hard all over Derek’s face within about thirty seconds of getting his dick in Derek’s mouth. But it’s so good and he’s already so strung out—

Derek trails a hand like a hot brand up Stiles’ thigh and across his ass, dipping into his hole and it’s fucking game over.

Stiles bucks up into Derek, tries to pull off but is denied and comes right down Derek’s throat.

Derek doesn’t give him time to apologise— but instead stands and turns Stiles not so gently into the wall and shoves up against him. He splays one hand out across Stiles’ stomach and rids himself of his own trousers with the other. Then he’s rutting up against Stiles’ ass, groaning and mouthing against the back of neck.

“Fucking love you like this,” he murmurs. “All mine.”

“Yeah just come on, come on.” He twists briefly out of Derek’s hands so that he can face him, wraps his own hand around Derek’s cock and strokes him roughly. “God Finstock better not do a walk around right now.”

Derek laughs against his cheek and Stiles feels it all the way down to his toes, tilts his head so that he can kiss the smile off his face. Derek pants into his mouth, eyes screwed shut in concentration and so beautiful Stiles is pretty sure he’s half hard again.

He bends his head to bite at Derek’s neckline and Derek seizes up and then comes all over his hand. And his shirt.

Stiles has the decency to stroke him through his orgasm because no man likes to be left hanging and then lets go looking pissed.

Derek looks _smug_.

“Really dude?”

Derek shrugs and widens his stupid perfect eyes innocently. “I thought you didn’t like the suit anyway.”

Stiles bites down on a grin. “I fucking hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Derek wraps his arms around him, sliding them into the interior of his jacket and Stiles sighs contentedly, resting his head in Derek’s neck.

“I’m still pissed at you. For _so_ much.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you smelling me right now?”

“Mmmsmellgood,” Derek slurs, “like you and me.”

“Yeah and a shit load of come,” Stiles whines. “Derek I have to go back in there!”

Derek sighs heavily and pulls back before reaching into his inside jacket pocket and pulling something out. He practically shoves it in Stiles’ face and he has to lean away slightly to see that it’s a rose similar to the one he gave Erica.

“What is that?”

“S’flower dumbass.”

“Yeah I know that but why are you giving it to me.”

“It’s customary to give someone you’re going to prom with flowers.”

Stiles can feel his heart trying to flutter it’s way right out of his chest and into the sky.

“You’re giving me a rose.”

Derek looks pained and tries to take it back. “I won’t if you think it’s stupid.”

“What? No!” Stiles snatches his hand away and holds the rose close to his chest. “You can’t have it back now. This is like the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re wearing a suit, and you gave me a flower. You even put out! You can’t take all that back.”

“I don’t want to,” Derek says rolling his eyes as he tugs his pants back up. It occurs to Stiles that he’s still standing pants less right outside his own gymnasium and he jumps to correct that.

When they both look marginally less indecent he crooks a smile Derek’s way. “So are you coming in?”

“What if one of your teachers--”

“Derek, they literally have no power of me as of graduation. I really don’t care ok?” He grabs Derek's tie, loosening the knot before pulling it free with a satisfying swoosh. He wraps it round his head and then grins. "Come on now, I'm ready for battle here."

His boyfriend still looks hesitant and Stiles snickers. “The great and powerful Alpha afraid of prom?”

Derek snaps to look at him and scowls. “No,” he sticks out a hand, “come on.”

The faint strains of _Ho Hey_ trail out of the gym as Derek tugs on his hand, leading him inside.

Erica and Boyd are dancing together in slow circles, Boyd’s hand wrapped around Erica’s and they're both smiling faintly. Lydia seems to be trying to rant at Jackson about something but he leans forward suddenly and kisses her. Clearly Jackson and Derek have been trading pointers on how to deal with highly strung, talkative, insanely intelligent, awesome other half. Lydia’s crown falls off and she doesn’t notice. Scott is twirling Allison around under the confetti that's falling-- signalling this is the last dance of the night. Isaac and Danny are making out in the corner with Isaac's trilby over their faces. Stiles starts to laugh and then freezes when every wolf in the room turns to look at him.

Isaac looks traumatised immediately, Danny tugging on his collar looking confused. Jackson hides a grin behind his hand as Scott and Erica barrel towards them. “You guys _reek_!” Scott cries as his face heats up. “I can’t believe you left prom to go-- have _sex_!”

“Hey you can say the word!” Stiles claps him on the shoulder, “you’re finally a man my friend. And don’t worry, we didn’t go far. We were very responsible about not leaving school property during the hours of prom and everything. Gotta follow those strict how to avoid pregnancy rules and all.”

He can see Derek’s trying not to laugh, keeping his face carefully blank as the pack hover around them.

Erica fusses with his suit muttering about the blessings of waistcoats hiding the evidence and Stiles bats her hands away. “Hey! I looked fine when I came in—isn’t that enough?”

“Oh you looked fine alright,” she drawls just to watch Derek glower at her and inch closer to Stiles.

Stiles rolls his eyes and flicks his hands at them all. “ _Go_ , far away, anywhere, have sex, be free whatever you like. _I’m_ going to dance with my boyfriend and be perfectly pleasantly cheesy for the last two minutes of prom.”

He pulls Derek into the centre of the room, for once, not bothered that all eyes are fixed on them.

“People are looking,” Derek mutters looking worried.

Stiles shrugs. “So let ‘em look.”

He winds his arms around Derek’s waist, rests his chin on his shoulder so that their cheeks are touching. Derek’s hands slide around his middle, one trailing up his back and the other settling under the waistcoat, gently gripping at his shirt.

Stiles thumbs at the rose, smiling faintly to himself as they sway to the music.

If someone had told him four hours ago this would be one of the best nights of his life he would have laughed until he cried. Wearing a ridiculous red suit to prom? Going with a vicious evil werewolf pretending to be his friend until she can dominate the world easily without him? _Jackson_?

No way he’s going to have a good time.

Turns out Stiles is shit at accepting that things might actually turn out pretty well.

But he’s got a damn good group of friends to try and make him a little less cynical. To have a little more _faith_. Previously Stiles had always believed in what he could see. Now he’s thinking he’s ok with believing just a little bit in what he can’t. What he can’t control and plan out can _wait_. He’s fucking dancing to The Lumineers here.

He feels Derek smile against his cheek and twists to look at him. “What?”

“Erica says you’re doing it again.”

“I don’t care,” Stiles says leaning in to kiss him, and then again, just because he can. “Don’t care at all Reyes.”

“Liar,” Derek smirks against his lips.

He's running appreciative hands up and down the back of Stiles' suit and Stiles has to admit; it's maybe not the _worst_ thing he's ever worn. He does, however, want it removed as soon as possible and quirks an eyebrow at Derek. "Wanna get out of here?"

Derek grins wolfishly and casual-as-you-like tosses Stiles over his shoulder before sprinting from the room.

"Oh my god you are such an exhibitionist!"

*

Stiles presses the rose in the pages of his Encyclopedia and keeps Derek's tie around the bed post. Just for emergencies obviously.

 


End file.
